Reflections on Wildflowers 6 (Last Installment in This Series)

For me, one of the joys of late summer is to look upon my creek from an upstairs window when the stream is bordered with white flowers. The plant is Snakeroot. While it is poisonous to cows, sheep, and horses, Snakeroot is beautiful when blooming all along the brook.

I seldom resort to the word “beauty” or the adjective “beautiful.” Such words are so overused that they fail to convey the powerful meanings they once expressed. When I describe the Snakeroot blossoms as beautiful, I intend to give the impression that the scene truly is full of beauty.

Canada Goldenrold, Photo by Clyde Fisher

In Norman Taylor’s Wild Flower Gardening (D. Van Nostrand, 1955)

I find the wildflowers of late summer breathtakingly beautiful, particularly in combinations of purple, yellow, and white. Purple-Stem Beggarticks, Pokeweed, Jerusalem Artichoke, Wingstem, Purple Asters, Ironweed, Goldenrod, and Queen Anne’s Lace are only a few of the plants that decorate the wild spaces of the rural landscape where I live. The palette of the painter of nature is as rich as it is bold in August and September. The difference in the seasons can be appreciated more fully when we think back to spring, with its pale yellowish greens, its light pinks, and its pure whites. By late summer, the allure of the pastel tones of April is forgotten, with the exception of common mallow, which thrives along the foundation of my barn; now, for the most part, the landscape is arrayed in colors of nobility: amethyst and gold made more stunning by touches of white.

I like to think how privileged we are to move through the colors of our living canvas. I enjoy driving down a rural road that weaves through a vast and royal robe of purple and amber. Wildflowers decorate every undulation of the ground. They are so thick as to be nearly impenetrable. When I commuted to work, I hardly had the presence of mind to appreciate how gorgeously decorated our world is. Gripping the steering wheel after a trying day, I saw without seeing the goldenrod nodding in the fence corners, but, with fresh memories of the snarling rush-hour traffic on the interstate, I was in no mood to become one with late summer’s wonderful display of blossoms. Now that I am retired, I sigh in relief, relax, and marvel at the ever-changing composition amid which I am a roving witness.

In the last weeks before retirement, I anticipated identifying wildflowers in the months ahead, and I must say that the pleasure of using a guidebook to name plants that no nursery has sold has far exceeded my hopes. I feel so much more connected to the land than I felt while I was doing my job for so many years. I am slowly but surely regaining the sense of being grounded that I felt years ago when I was growing up on a farm. Wildflowers have helped me make the transition from a career to retirement. Next year, I will begin identifying the birds in my backyard. I can hardly wait!

Reflections on Wildflowers 4

After the Fourth of July, exquisite blossoms of Queen Anne’s Lace began nodding in the breezes and were particularly prominent along the edge of the wild tangle of trees, brush, and weeds behind my barn. To my way of thinking, few flowers rival the intricately constructed blooms of Queen Anne’s Lace. I always include them in my arrangements of cut flowers, and they are star performers in such rôles. Throughout the next three weeks, more and more long stems culminating in doilies of white embroidery came to decorate my flower beds, where I permit many to grow, and to ornament the brambly zones of my property.

Bee Balm, Painting by L. A. Simonsen, in Wild Flowers

Adapted by Asa Don Dickinson from Nature’s Garden

By Neltje Blanchan (Doubleday, 1917, 1926)

Also in early July, the Scarlet Pimpernel opened its tiny salmon-red blossoms beside a drainage pipe near the road in front of my house. I refrain from touching the plant because I am told that its sap can cause a rash. The color of the petals catches the eye and inspires the appreciation. Scarlet Pimpernel is said to spread easily, but mine has not done so, perhaps because I routinely mow the grass close to the drainage pipe. Even though the flowers are minuscule, they may be seen from a distance, thanks to their extraordinary color.

Oswego-Tea, Photo by Russell Tinling Pansie

In Norman Taylor’s Wild Flower Gardening

(D. Van Nostrand, 1955)

At the same time, Wild Bergamot, or Bee Balm, suddenly bloomed in a sunny corner of a disorderly band of growth on high ground above my creek. The shape of its lavender flowers (Mine were lavender, not red.) reminded me of coconut macaroons! What a treat to discover such splendid color bobbing to the pranks of capricious zephyrs! Wild Bergamot can be purchased for flower beds, but, as its name implies, it can be wild. I suspect that mine was originally among the seeds of wildflowers that I scattered years ago in a vain attempt to start what I hoped would be a spectacular summer display. Almost none of the seeds grew! In years since, I have thought that the Red Clover, Oxeye Sunflower, and Wild Bergamot might have been among the hapless seeds that I so carelessly tossed over a grassy spot near my orchard.

Morning-Glory, Painting by L. A. Simonsen in Wild Flowers

Adapted by Asa Don Dickinson from Nature’s Garden

By Neltje Blanchan (Doubleday, 1917, 1926)

How there came to be a thriving Morning Glory vine in the midst of my vegetable garden is beyond me! Yet there it was with big blue flowers spreading across a corner of my flower border.

Morning Glory Blooming in a Sunny Corner of My Vegetable Garden

Then there appeared one of my favorite wildflowers: the Spotted Touch-Me-Not! Amid masses of light green foliage in the far corner of my land, the mottled orange trumpets faced the morning sun from their location along a thicket bordering the creek. Every year, I watch for the leaves because I want this loveliest of wildflowers to spread. After the bloom cycle, I have tried to help the seeds to scatter more broadly but to no avail; I have realized that the plants must seed themselves without my intervention. This year, I have more billowing clusters of Touch-Me-Not blooms than I have enjoyed in recent years, so they must be gradually spreading, much to my delight!

Spotted Touch-Me-Not, One of My Favorite Wildflowers

With such spectacular displays of wildflowers, I echo these lines by Robert Browning: “God’s in His heaven— / All’s right with the world!”